Death's Final Hour
by dionysianDaydream
Summary: This is an account of Ryoji Mochizuki's last night on earth. Includes some headcanons. Looks like it's gonna be a three-parter. Note: I would have itallicized Ryoji's thoughts, but I can't do that the normal way on mobile, and the html editor is terrible. I apologize for any confusion it might cause.
1. Part One

Ryoji's whole purpose of being was to grant humanity a choice, and that purpose had been served.

When he left the dorm and felt a lone wind like a wave of cold needles poking into the side of his face, he imagined it was Nix taunting him from the ethereal plane for his failure...

It was their decision to make. That's what matters.

Even so, Ryoji could not shake the pangs of guilt in his gut. Deep down, he wondered if perhaps more could have been done to persuade them. By killing him, it would have allowed them to live out their final days free from dread. All their memories of shadows, the dark hour and The Fall could have been completely erased with a single bullet; the ultimate mercy with all things considered.

He had begged them to see the light of his reasoning, even going so far as to reveal his true form to the leader. It was she who made the final decision, and to Ryoji's chagrin she had insisted that the members of S.E.E.S were determined to persevere, and that she would not disobey their trust.

"Not only that, but I feel the same way too," she said without hesitation. "Even though you claim Nix is undefeatable, if we're going to die anyway I'd rather go down with a fight."

Having dwelled within her for so long, Ryoji was nonetheless surprised by her steadfastness. She had grown immensely over the course of just a month. They all must have.

"I see...if that's how you think, then there's no use in me trying to change your mind."

And so the matter was settled. It was useless to even still be thinking about it, but impossible not to.

As he set off walking with no clear destination in mind - the darkness was due to consume him at any minute, so it didn't matter - he stopped when he spotted someone spraying grafitti on the side of a building across the street. There, 'Death' stood out beneath a flickering streetlight, written in bold red kanji. Slouched against a wall behind him, a girl wearing a Gekkoukan High school winter uniform is grunting and moaning incoherently, staring off into space through eyes encircled by thick black rings.

Even now her power is growing.

~ 死 ~

Paulownia Mall was less busy at night, especially with all of the cult activity that had been going on at the time. Because of the recent surge in Apathy Syndrome cases, invaluable maintainance personnel had been missing in action for weeks, so the courtyard was in bad shape.

Ryoji could scarcely take two steps without crushed a discarded soda can, and his shoes were glossy with their leftover contents by the time he made it to the central fountain. Sitting on the side of it, he watched as flimsy Wild Duck Burger wrappers scuttered across the ground like tumbleweeds, as the jets of water at his back thundered into a basin so murky that no amount of squinting or repositioning would permit him to see through to the bottom.

Ryoji closed his eyes.

This place was so beautiful the first time I saw it. Before I regained my memories, Port Island and its people were all I had.

He ran one hand through the water, sighing deeply.

If it hurts me this much to see what has become of the world, I can't even imagine how they must be feeling.

He opens his eyes again at the sound of a door. There was the sense of something similar, moving among the patternic swayings and mute utterings of the Lost.

A tall officer of an impeccable appearance (his uniform shirt had no wrinkles and was tucked in neatly, his pants were pressed, shoes clean and polished until they glowed) was standing in front of the police station, surveying the surrounding area with a steely look in his eyes that could strike a person as either intimidating or comforting, depending on what side of the law they are on.

For a brief moment, Officer Kurosawa showed a hint of surprise in his expression when his eyes settled Ryoji for the first time - by all means an uncommon reaction for the seasoned patrolman.

"Hey, kid. If you're just here to loiter around, I suggest you go home." He turns to lock the door to the station as he continues, "you know, it's dangerous to be out alone at night."

Ryoji flinched when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

What is this sensation...?

"Thank you for your concern, but it's alright..." Ryoji says, smiling fakely. "I just wanted to make a wish at the fountain and then I'll be on my way, sir." It was the literally first excuse that came to his mind, and he couldn't help but cringe at how stupid he sounded.

Kurosawa grunted.

"You sure picked a funny time," he said gruffly.

In any case the ruse worked, because Kurosawa left him alone after that. As he walked off, whistling an unfamiliar tune, Ryoji waited with bated breath until the sound of it and his footsteps disappeared.

"I know you're there," he was relieved to finally say.

A ghostly white hand affixed to a skinny, tatooed arm emerged from the shadows of the closed arcade on cue. It pointed a steel revolver at him, that seemed to glisten in the pale moonlight.

"You really should have listened to the friendly police officer and left this trash heap while you still had the chance, Ryoji Mochizuki."

"How do you know name?"

He smiled, his teeth shining through the darkness.

"I've been watching you."

Glaring amber eyes came into view, followed shortly after by the slender frame of Takaya Sakaki: shirtless, with a messianic scraggly beard and uncut locks that billowed down to his shoulders, only they were gray like deadly smoke. His only clothing articles were a pair of torn light blue jeans with a red scarf tucked into a back pocket barely held up by a studded white belt, and embroidered brown boots. He had tattoo sleeves on both of his arms, one of which featured two serpants coiled around a scepter with a bright orange sun at the center.

Ryoji could recognize the man from glimpsing him through the eyes of his onetime vessel before, so he knew the unquenchable thirst for chaos that lurked within him.

"I can see it in your eyes that you already know who I am, so there's no use in me introducing myself. I'll get straight to the point..."

There came the sickening and deliberate click of a bullet being loaded into the revolver's chamber.

"What business do you have with those who seek to put an end to the dark hour?"

Ryoji cursed how long it was taking for the final transformation to take place, which the fate of the entire world now hinges upon. His next few words would mean everything.

His first compulsion was to feign ignorance, and say he was just a classmate and friend of Junpei's, who had no idea why he was dangerously close to being shot at. Unfortunately, as the moon's usual blank palour turned into a definite yellow and the sky around it became a sickly green broken up by misty clouds that looked like random flicks of a paintbrush dipped in black paint, that was no longer an option.

The dark hour had begun.

If I die here they'll lose their memories, and then there would be no one to stop Nix. All of this would have been for nothing.

The touch of the cold steel barrel against his forehead urged him to come up with an answer quickly, but he could not think of anything to say that would explain why he had not changed into a coffin like every ordinary human did at the onset of the secret 25th hour of each day.

"If you value your life, I suggest you say something..."

"I don't know anything," Ryoji said after a while; head bowed so as to come off as innocent as possible. "So please, don't kill me." He stared into the inky depths of one of the many puddles of blood on the ground that show up during the dark hour.

"Playing dumb, and begging for your life?" Takaya grinned with delight. "How naïve, as you will now find out."

With a flick of his fingers, Takaya's accomplice and fellow Strega member Jin Shirato showed up at his right side.

He is shorter than Takaya, ditching the Jesus look for dark blue slicked back hair, a cleanly shaved face and orange-tinted glasses with black frames. Rather than walking around bare-chested, he sports an exotic green turtlenecked jacket decorated by multiple black straps, and loosely fitted navy blue pants with black shoes.

He opened up the silver suitcase that he always carried with him, and retrieved a tape recorder from within.

"The dorm is bugged, so there's no use in trying to bullshit us," he said matter-of-factly.

"We heard you say yourself that the Fall will take place on January 31st," Takaya chimes in. "What we want to know is how whether or not you live or die affects things, exactly."

Ryoji shook his head. No, no, this can't be happening...

"No, you've got it all wrong. I will cease to exist tonight whether or not you decide to kill me," he said softly.

"In that case please, feel free to correct us, before my hand twitches." Takaya snarled. He was clearly growing agitated, as his bony finger teased the trigger treacherously.

"I will not," Ryoji replied firmly, looking directly into Takaya's eyes as he did so. "My friends made their decision to confront Nix, and I won't let you take it away from them!"

Before Takaya could react, Ryoji drew upon his power as the Nyx avatar to attack him with a shockwave radiated from his body. The pulse was strong enough that it sent him rolling across the floor until he slams into a far wall.

"Shit, this guy's no ordinary Persona-user," Jinn said as he drew his evoker and pointed it to his own head. "Hey...get back here!"

~ 死 ~

Ryoji ran as fast as he could without breaking through narrow alleyways and turning unto random streets, dodging the coffins and occasionally splashing himself in the pools of blood. The faces of everyone he had met in his short lifetime were what propelled him forward.

Everyone is relying on me now, so I have to keep moving.

He went as fast and as far as his lungs could take him before stopping in a residental area, still expecting the transformation to occur at any minute.

But then, out of nowhere he sensed movement up ahead, past where the street sloped upward to form a small hill.

His chest ached from fatigue and fear - could Strega have caught up with him already? Panting, he braced himself for the worst.

The only sound being carried on the light wind was that of somebody whistling.

"It can't be...Officer Kurosawa?" Ryoji gaped in disbelief.

The man he had seen exiting the police station in Paulownia Mall earlier rounded the top of the hill, clearly unfazed by his macabre surroundings.

"You've gotten yourself into a real mess, haven't you?" Kurosawa said.

When the stonefaced patrolman came into view he stopped at about ten feet away from Ryoji and looked him over. The glow of the yellow moon behind an apartment complex casted a long shadow in between them.

"I could tell you were hiding something before." He tilts his face downward so that one half is basked in the light whereas the other is masked in shadow. "And now, those two are chasing after you. Why?"

Ryoji fidgeted nervously.

Clearly he had a lot of explaining to do to earn Kurosawa's trust; not that his being active during the dark hour didn't also raise a few questions.

After a few moments, Ryoji relented to the man's icy glare.

"Fine. I'll tell you everything."


	2. Part Two

"So you've been aware of S.E.E.S.'s existence all along," Ryoji said, repeating what Kurosawa had just told him to let it sink in.

At first he could not believe that someone as close to the group's operations was able to keep his ability to use a Persona a secret. Since the early days of S.E.E.S. Kurosawa had been an invaluable source of black market weapons and combat gear, even though he claimed to not know of the group's private activities. It was never once questioned that he lacked the potential to grow a Persona, but it's not like he was ever tested for it either.

But what, then, could have inspired him to place deadly weapons in the hands of High Schoolers? Now that Ryoji thought about it, the signs were there all along. According to Kurosawa's own words - as Ryoji recalled from while he was still sealed inside of Minako Arisato - the infamously strict officer was so inclined to bend the rules simply because he had 'a feeling' that the young operatives were on a very important mission.

Furthermore, there were the many times when he would pass the rewards for finding missing persons on to them, all of which had actually been hypnotized by shadows and lead to Tartarus; their nesting place. Dazed, these people would wander around aimlessly for days on end until S.E.E.S. members could come to their rescue.

How could Kurosawa have assumed they had anything to do with the reappearance of those missing people, without any knowledge of the dark hour? Or how about when even the persons rescued would wake up the next day with no recollection? Again, that would have taken a surreal amount of good faith, which on the surface did not seem to coincide with such a hard-edged individual who worked in a profession that relies on facts and hard evidence.

Kurosawa was particularly proficient at reading body language, even compared to his fellow cops. He could tell that the wheels were turning in Ryoji's head, so for a while he didn't say anything.

The air between them grew tense.

"You should have joined the fight," Ryoji said.

Kurosawa sighed.

"I'll admit that I didn't get involved for personal reasons," he said, and from the way he did it was clear that he had no intention to expand upon them. "My Persona has a natural cloaking ability and some kind of sonar power, so it hasn't been that difficult to keep hidden."

He went on to ask about Ryoji, who decided that it would be best to lie about his identity; saying he was S.E.E.S's newest member. He also failed to mention anything about his encounter with the two Strega members, who he was hoping had deemed him to be more trouble than he was worth, and retreated to whatever hole they crawled out of.

Kurosawa received news of the impending apocalypse surprisingly well.

"So for once the crazy cultists are right about something? That marks a first."

Ryoji shot him a glare.

The man's passivity rubbed him the wrong way, considering the many sacrifices those closest to him had made in their stands against the shadows.

Loose fragments of Minako Arisato's personality still existed within Ryoji, and they conjured up images in his mind to further fuel his anger: Shinjiro, lying in his hospital bed while everyone gathered around him, looking down in solemn silence. The anguished cries of Mitsuru, in despair over her father's death at the hands of a traitor who wanted to become God. Chidori smiling bravely in Junpei's arms, until the last light of her eyes faded away forever.

"You're too calm during all of this," Ryoji growled.

"Huh?" Kurosawa was thrown off by the sharp change in his tone.

"We've been risking our lives, bearing the weight of the world on our shoulders, while you just sat back and watched?" Minako seethed, as hot tears ran down Ryoji's face. "Shinjiro-senpai...is in a coma now, thanks to some shirtless nut going around with a gun. He jumped in front of it at the last minute because he saw what had to be done, and didn't hesitate."

Kurosawa turned his head abruptly.

Situated not far from where they were standing, on the artificial island just off the coast of the mainland - 'Tatsumi Port Island' - the massive and disorderly megalith of jutting, warped staircases, turquoise-glowing crystal ornaments and dead ends overlooking fatal drops towered above them, shaking hands with the moon.

The distraught vessel of utter annihilation and the cop fumbling for the right words to say gazed upon Tartarus; momentarily bewitched by its forbidden, otherworldly splendor.

"You're right. I should have been in that tower, fighting beside you all on the front lines." He looked into Ryoji's eyes; the gaze they returned still fierce and unforgiving. "I'm sorry."

After such a long wait, the knell of Ryoji's inevitable demise - the first stage of his transformation - came unexpectedly, in the form of a whisper. Death itself was calling him.

Before he could comprehend what was going on, the pain hit.

He could feel the energy being rapidly drained out of him like blood from his veins, leaving behind an aching numbness. Drop-by-drop, the Appriser was being returned to the plane of his origin, and there was no way to stop it or to take back what was already gone. Unlike the members of S.E.E.S., the only choice Ryoji had was to suffer.

Return to me...

The voice in his head beckoned him again without a shred of remorse or pity.

"Feeling...dizzy..."

Kurosawa caught him as he fell.

"The final transformation," he gasped, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he writhed in pain. "No...why does it have to..."

"What the hell is going on?"

As soon as he said that, a circle of Inky black blobs with clawed hands on long, spindly arms wearing a variety of colorful masks materialized around them. They were shadow peons; not unlike a swarm of ants sent by their Queen to pick apart a dying beetle.

Kurosawa, still crouched and holding the unconscious Ryoji in one arm, smirked.

"Small fries."

~ 死 ~

Ryoji's mind was grasping for straws as his life was slipping away.

"It's finally happening."

He found himself standing in an empty white space without borders. In an instant, there was no Kurosawa, no Tartarus, no Strega. No pain, even. In the time it took him to close his eyes, it was as if the whole world had vanished.

"Am I really going to die in a place like this? All alone..."

He fell to his knees, leaning forward with both palms laid flat across the textureless ground.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Who am I kidding," he sniffed. "They must hate me for what I put them through." Ironically he had been the one to tell them about Nyx in the first place, when all he wanted was to provide them with the option to forget.

"Maybe it's not too late for me to..." ...kill myself, the thought entered his mind.

If left to fight Nix, she would torment them, with something even worse than what she was doing to him, more likely than not.

They couldn't possible comprehend...

If they had accepted his choice, then their deaths would be as quick and painless as everyone else's on that day; the flames of billions of candles snuffed out simultaneously by one strong gale.

I'll kill myself, for their sakes. So that they won't suffer in the end.

For them...I'll make the choice.

No sooner than when that idea spawned in his mind, a change befell his surroundings.

The vast emptiness was doused in a wash of black that then dissolved into a myriad of colors; faded hues marking darkspots where they should be, varying textures and natural deviations worked together to recreate a scene from his memory with perfect accuracy.

"I'm...back at the dorm?"

He was in the lounge, standing in the hallway next to the bathrooms. All the lights were on so it must have been late, and he could see a dark blue baseball cap bobbing up and down over a couch in the living room.

He moved closer and smiled when he saw who it was; a young man of a lanky build and a thin goatee going to town on a cup of instant noodles.

"Hey Junpei, it's me!" Ryoji called out excitedly.

Junpei barely glanced at him. "Oh, 'sup dude?"

Ryoji punched him in the shoulder playfully.

"What kind of a lame reaction is that? I'm back, man! I'm not going to rejoin with Nix after all." He laughed without restraint, more happy now than he had allowed himself to be for a month. "I don't know how, but I'm alive!"

Even if this is just a dream...I...

"Is this some kind of prank?" Junpei said, wide-eyed. "Because...uh, I don't get it."

It wasn't until Ryoji pulled back his hand that he realized something wasn't quite as it should be. The fingers were long and slender, ending in delicate tips with glossy pink-painted nails. Not his fingers.

"Why am I wearing a skirt?" Ryoji asked, pinching the hem with suspicion. The legs that shot out beneath it and tapered off in knee-high gray socks and black pumps were definitely not his either.

Just a memory...Ryoji...

"I don't know, but..." Junpei was blushing. "You look great in it, just saying."

Thump. Thump. Thu-thump.

A girl stepped off the staircase at the end of the hall, carrying a small cardboard box overloaded with clothing, towels and other miscellaneous knick-knacks like snowglobes.

"Leave her alone, Stupei," Yukari scoffed at him. She's often called the cutest girl in school, with short, light brown almost orange hair that curved inward at her shoulders, her trademark pink cardigan and 'aggressive' personality.

Leave 'her' alone? Of course...

The illusion threatened to fall apart in his state of confusion. Self-awareness caused parts of the simulation to pulse and ripple; his sub-conscious mind staunchly resisting the relentless pull of consciousness.

This is real. This is all real. I'm back at the door, alive again.

"What, you heard that?" Junpei kissed his teeth, oblivious. "Come on! She's the one who came up to me talking about...uh...uh, I don't even know-"

"You were hitting on her again, you perv! Can't you get a cl-"

"Yukari!" Ryoji interjected, yelling accidentally. "Do you have a mirror I can use?"

"A mirror?" She blinked. "Sure, I know there's one in here somewhere."

"What's with the box anyway, Yuka-tan?" Junpei asked.

"It's just some old stuff I wanted to get rid of."

Yukari set the box down on the counter and dug through it until she found one. Brief sensations whizzed by as he waited. Pain. Trickling blood. Footsteps. Shadows. Six of them in all. Lightning bolts raining from the sky, torching them all.

"Oh here it is-"

Ryoji snatched it from her.

"Thanks," he sputtered. Yukari and Junpei exchanged concerned glances.

This is all real...I'm alive, and I'll prove it.

Ryoji took a deep breath and licked his lips, which tasted like cherry chap stick.

Hesitant, even though he already knew what to expect, he slowly turned the hand mirror around so that the reflective glass was facing him.

A striking pair of blue eyes stared back at him with a spiky sliver of blue hair coming down the middle. They belonged to a boy dressed in an unbuttoned Gekkoukan High uniform that smiled as he did. He frowned, bared his teeth, then crinkled his eyebrows in complete unison with Ryoji.

The fractured glimpses into reality dissapated entirely, and all he could hear was the droning buzz of the electric current running through a fan that was spinning above his head.

"Hello senpai, my name is...

~ 死 ~

"...Minato Arisato," he says, while shaking the hand of a slightly older girl whose blood red hair fell to her mid-back in gorgeous waves.

"My name is Mitsuru Kirijo," she says. The smile quickly fades from her face when she turns at Yukari, who is standing next to her.

"I'm Yukari. So, uh, welcome to the dorm."


End file.
